Brotherhood of the Sword: Outremer
by Quixotic Cervantes
Summary: Back story for Kinley MacGregor's Brotherhood of the Sword Series. 150 men are help captive and tortured. Five take charge, determined to see all the prisoners reach their homes again. Rated M as a precaution.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Brotherhood of the Sword series...and it's best that way. **

**

* * *

**_We all survive.  
We all go home.  
We are brothers unto the end._

That was our oath. The oath taken by one hundred and fifty men. Men who were taken and tortured, locked away for three years. Men, who from the time they were captured were branded by their Saracen masters. Men, who will never find rest until injustice is gone from the world.

This is the story of Outremer, the land beyond the sea.  
This is the story, of the Brotherhood of the Sword.  
This, is our story.

* * *

**The lowdown- I'm shamefully addicted to romance novels, mainly those written by Kinley MacGregor. Anyway, she writes this series called the Brotherhood of the Sword. So the backstory to the characters is that they were all at Outremer together. So one weekend while watching hockey I decided that the backstory would make a fantastic movie...so here I am trying to see how it works as a full story. **

**Here's hoping I don't get writers' block on this story too! **


	2. The Quinfortis

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Brotherhood of the Sword. Though I wish I did, they're damn fine.**

"Talking"

_Thoughts_

**_Foreign Language _**

* * *

**_"Get in there you filthy vermin!"_**

A large man was thrown into a dark room. His knees stung as they struck the stone floor while the wind was knocked from his lungs as his upper body collided with another man already laying there. The scratching sound of the metal cell door closing rang sharply in his ears.

Once the door slammed shut, the man rolled over groaning. He opened his eyes, only to be met with darkness. A dull throbbing formed near his temples, steadily growing worse as he strained his sight. Turning to the man he had been thrown onto he prayed he was conscious.

"Do you-" his voice was hoarse, raspy from hours of screaming, he cleared his throat. "Do you know where we are?" He heard the man shift before a deep voice echoed through the stone cell.

"A Saracen prison."

_Saracen? _The man's mind raced, the Saracens were a ruthless people, especially to court knights. Their hatred of the knights' religion fueled their desire for torture. He tried to ignore the chill that swept through the window; and moved towards the wall, not wanting his back exposed to the other prisoners.

The newcomer lay on the ground. His muscles, stiff from his most recent beating, protested as the cold ground did nothing to loosen their tension. He closed his eyes, focusing his senses on the iron door and his breathing.

His meditation was broken as his arm reflexively shot out to grab an approaching object. He gripped, what he determined to be a wrist, tightly as he addressed the captured person.

"What do you want?" After a moment of silence, he tightened his grip. "Speak quickly or I will not hesitate to break your wrist."

"I only wished to know your name.

The man dropped the wrist in shock. Indeed, the wrist has been small, such was often the case in a prisoner, but he had not expected to hear a child's voice.

"…Stryder."

A moments silence brought another question from the youth.

"The Earl of Blackmoor?"

"You know me?" Stryder's wear voice was more forceful in this question. He had been traveling with three other men, none of whom he had seen since his capture four days prior.

"I…know of you milord."

He could hear the hesitation in the boys answer, but did not question it.

"What is your name, boy?"

"Aquarius, milord."

Stryder gave a dry chuckle and shook his head.

"There are no lords here, Aquarius. Only fools of men who managed to be captured."

When the silence had drawn on long enough, Stryder abandoned thoughts of conversation and closed his eyes, listening intently for any sudden sounds.

---

Sunlight streamed through the barred windows. It danced on the immobile bodies lying in the cell, falling on their faces. A few men took in the light, producing an almost ethereal glow. Like fallen angels, for their bruises marred the natural look about them.

Stryder closed his eyes tighter, wishing to block out the dawn that had come too soon. Sleep had graced him with perhaps thirty minutes of uninterrupted sleep. He groaned as he stretched, careful not to hit the men surrounding him. He opened his eyes, taking in his holdings for the first time.

The cell was no more than a pit with a rock floor. Men were strewn about, all as far away from the others as space would allow. He guessed over two score were crammed into the miserable cell. Stryder cringed. Grown men, knights even, crammed into a hole and beaten like dogs.

He stood, stretching his muscles, tightened from the night's rest on cold stone, only to hiss in pain. A gash on his right shoulder burned at the movement. He stopped as a rag was held in front of him.

"You'll want to wash that out. But you'd best do it quickly or the others will wring the cloth for the water."

Stryder turned towards the man who had spoken. The man matched the accented baritone perfectly. Large and burly, the man stood taller than he did. His hair was matted with blood and dirt, leaving only wisps of grey-brown hair distinguishable.

He reached out and grasped the cloth; nodding in both understanding and thanks. He reached over his shoulder, barely able to reach the wound even with his long arms. He could feel the skin tearing slightly as the cloth loosened the pebbles and dirt that had stuck to the now dried blood. He scrubbed the lesion until the cloth was dry, all the while praying it would not become infected.

Turning toward the man, he noticed the scars that riddled his arms and chest. He could only assume the man's back was equally as bad.

_Or worse._ "Thank you. You've surely saved my back."

The man shook his head. "Nay, no doubt they'll be tearing that open before it heals. You'll have quite the scar."

Stryder nodded, "No doubt." Taking another glance around the cell, he looked toward the man. "How long have you been here?"

"Nigh two years."

Stryder's blood ran cold.

"Years? Good God, Man! How is it you still live?"

The man simply shrugged. Stryder wished he had refrained from asking, knowing that others had been here for so long clouded any ideas of escape that may have formed. He leaned back against the wall, hoping for a bit more rest.

The cell door slammed open and Saracens flooded the cell. _So much for resting._ Stryder cracked his eyes open. The men were screaming; shouting prayers to any god who would listen as their guards dragged them from the cell. The men in back were spared, the guards only taking the ones in front.

"Everyday. Can't they leave us to rot in peace?"

Stryder turned back to the older man; pain shadowed his whole aura. Obviously, he had seen more than any man should have to. He looked over the cell. _Are Simon and Aubrey stuck in this hell also? God please don't let them be suffering for my stupidity. Please don't let them be… _He shook himself from his thoughts; certainly, they were alive. There was no way they could have perished for his sins. He looked to the older man.

"Would you happen to know if there are two men here by the name of Simon and Aubrey? They were traveling with me and I've not seen them since my capture."

"I'd hoped that was you, Stryder. Though I admit, my hopes were not high."

Stryder started at the familiar voice. He glanced behind him before moving entirely. There stood his brother, Simon of Ravenswood. The man looked pale, malnourished, and beaten, but you'd never guess any of it from the smile he wore.

Forgetting himself, Stryder took two steps towards the younger man and pulled him into a hug. Simon returned it after a moment, causing Stryder to relax for a moment before pulling away.

"Where have you been? Aubrey and I were worried they'd killed you."

Stryder shook his head. "Nay, only beat me within an inch of my life. What of you two? How have you fared?"

Simon looked away from Stryder, "They beat us for a few days then brought us here. Aubrey has been taken out four times now, myself twice."

"And that's it?"

Simon nodded.Hearing someone say his name, he turned to look behind him, then addressed Stryder.

"Come with me. There are some people I'd like you to meet."

* * *

Well, there's the first chapter, I hope you guys enjoyed it. Though I doubt anyone's reading this, it is based on a romance novel after all.


End file.
